


The Best Cure

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Community: daily_deviant, Draco Malfoy - character, Drunkenness, F/M, Hangover, Hermione Granger - character, Kitchen Sex, Morning After, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione rolled over with a groan, buried her head beneath her pillows, and started plotting the slow, painful, and elaborate death of Dean Thomas. A Muggle night out, he said. No magic allowed, he said. No wands, no charms, no spells, he said.</p>
<p>No Sobering potions, he failed to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Cure

Hermione rolled over with a groan, buried her head beneath her pillows, and started plotting the slow, painful, and elaborate death of Dean Thomas. A Muggle night out, he said. No magic allowed, he said. No wands, no charms, no spells, he said.

No Sobering potions, he failed to say.

A hippogriff doing a Morris dance on her skull and a tongue coated with paste and thistles went without saying.

A trickle of sunlight sneaked beneath the edge of the pillow and stabbed her in the retinas. Hermione groaned again. Magical life had ruined her for pub crawls forever. Beer, lager, ale, tequila, those too-sweet drinks with unsubtle names. She could have as many Liquor Outs and Back Alley Blows as she liked when there was the promise of a quick potion at the end of the night and a clear head in the morning. But not that night, no thanks to Dean Thomas, the soon-to-be not dearly departed.

Hermione slid out of bed and sat on the floor, naked, legs sprawled wide and head against the bedside table. The colder air made her skin tingle and tighten up. "Clothes," she mumbled. She started to stand but the room spun along with her stomach. She waited for both to hold still, wondering which of Dean's limbs she would remove first.

At length, she decided that plots of dismemberment needed to wait until she had some clothes on and some tea in her stomach. A good thick tea that could fight it out with the remnants of alcohol. Tea with loads of milk, for calcium. "Builds strong bones," she muttered to herself. Giggling quietly at the mental image she'd created, she hooked her discarded jeans with her toes and hauled them close. The effort required to wriggle them on left her panting on the floor for a minute before she could operate the zip and button.

The blouse she'd worn the night before was missing, and she tried to remember where she'd left it. She hoped it was somewhere in the flat and not in whichever cab had delivered her to her building. With a grunt, she rolled over and pushed onto hands and knees to crawl across the room to her bureau. She fumbled in the bottom drawer for a shirt and pulled a camisole out. It would do.

Using the bureau for leverage, she clambered to her feet. She tugged the camisole on, grimacing at the crunchy feel of her hair, and headed for the door. "Tea," she mumbled as she staggered into the small kitchen at the end of the hallway. "Must. Have. Tea."

"Kettle's on."

Hermione shrieked at the deep, male voice, and spun around. She caught just a glimpse of someone reading a paper at the round table by the window before her hip collided with the handle of the refrigerator door. She yelped and went down in a heap.

"Smooth, Granger."

Hermione shrieked again, clawing at the counter to haul herself to her feet. Her headache flared, blood pounding in her temples. She stared at the man's upper arm, concentrating on the seam in his shirt as she tried desperately not to notice the white-blond hair and sharp profile that gave his identity even more clearly than the low drawl had. "Oh, god," she muttered, scrubbing both hands over her face. "No. No, no, no, I'm hallucinating. I'm still drunk. I am not seeing this."

"You're hungover, and so am I, so keep your voice down." Draco snapped the newspaper closed and tossed it onto the table. His chair scraped on the tile floor, making Hermione wince, and when she opened her eyes he was standing in front of her. She didn't protest as he guided her to the chair he'd just vacated.

"Ma. Mal. Dra?" She hung her head, staring at the stripes in the tablecloth, and groaned.

"Very good," he said as he set a chipped mug in front of her. "That's most of my name. Maybe after tea you can get the rest of the syllables."

"Draco," she managed. She slowly tipped forward and rested her forehead on the table. "Why are you here?"

"Long story." She heard the splash of tea filling the mug, then Draco gripped her shoulder and urged her upright. He took one of her hands and dropped two small pills into her palm. "Swallow," he ordered as he put a glass of water into her other hand.

Too bewildered to think, Hermione obediently swallowed the pills. Draco took the glass away and replaced it with a spoon. "Couldn't find any sugar," he said as he placed the milk jug next to her tea. "Just the milk."

"Don't keep sugar in the flat." Hermione snatched at the jug and poured milk into her tea, stirring until it went a pale shade of beige. "Rots your teeth."

"Right, your parents are dentists." Draco settled into the chair opposite her and wrapped both hands around a mug of his own. 

"Draco, I--"

"No," he said, holding one hand up. "No talking until we're both human again. Many questions, possibly some with answers, but for fuck's sake, it can all wait a few minutes."

Hermione stared into her tea. The pounding in her head was starting to ease, but not enough. She sipped her tea and stole the home and garden section of the paper. "Deal."

She read all the articles, even the one about hostas, as she finished her tea. By the time her cup was empty, the pounding in her skull had stopped, her mouth felt clean again, and her stomach had settled completely. She stared at Draco with awe. "What's in those pills?"

"Family recipe," he said without looking up from the stock pages. "Never go out without a few on hand. Saved a lot of mornings that way." He tore an article out of the paper, folded it up and shoved it into his shirt pocket, then met her eyes. "All right. You're likely bursting with several excruciatingly awkward questions. I'll let you off the hook straight away. No, we did not have sex."

Hermione slumped into her chair, exhaling in sharp relief. Finding Draco in her kitchen had definitely put that question into her mind. She was relieved to have it answered so quickly. "Oh, thank--" Draco shook his head and Hermione cringed. "There's more to it than that, isn't there?"

Draco shrugged one shoulder. "We didn't have sex. _But_ , it wasn't from lack of effort."

"Fuck." Hermione buried her face in her hands and made a desperate effort to recall what had happened the night before, even the smallest detail that would explain. Very little came to mind beyond too many colorful drinks, lots of laughter, and a collection of paper umbrellas and plastic swords. "What ... what. What?"

Draco got up and put the kettle on again. "What do you remember?"

A line from an American programme drifted into her head. "I think there was a restaurant," she muttered. "I _know_ there was wine."

Draco gave her a quizzical glance as he reclaimed his chair. Hermione fluttered one hand dismissively. "Never mind. I don't remember much except a lot of drinking in a lot of pubs. But, hold on." She narrowed her eyes and stared at Draco, trying to ignore the movement of his throat as he swallowed a mouthful of tea. The way he licked his bottom lip to catch a runaway drop was far more difficult to ignore. She shook her head, scolding herself silently, and focused on the thought that had struck her. "It was Dean's idea to have a Muggle night so we were going through _Muggle_ pubs. How did I run into you?"

"By quite literally running into me. May I?" Draco took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and held it up. Hermione gestured assent and pointed at the ashtray on the windowsill. Draco brought it to the table and continued. "It was in Diagon Alley. I was just leaving the Cauldron, where I'd retreated to drown my sorrows after my latest failure of a date. You and your hooligans, with no regard for your own lives, staggered out of London and into the pub just in time to knock me into a wall. You ended up between me and that Scottish fellow. Tree or Stick or whatever."

"Wood."

Draco flicked away the correction and blew a smoke ring. "You then proceeded to say 'Oi, Malfoy, show us your snake' before stuffing your hand down my trousers."

"Oh _god_ ," Hermione moaned, her face heating instantly.

Draco smirked. "As a matter of fact, those were your next words precisely. Rather less horrified tone of voice, though."

Hermione slid down in her chair, tugged her hair in front of her face to hide the blush, and wondered if she could melt into the floor until Draco went away. Gossip sessions with her girlfriends had often ended up on the equipment of the men they knew. She vaguely recalled a discussion along those lines while waiting in the queue for the loo at one pub. Draco had probably been in the names mentioned and she'd apparently decided to find out for herself. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck _me_."

"And those were your next words."

Hermione screeched wordlessly behind her curtain of hair. "Malfoy, tell me you're joking. Please tell me you're joking. Please tell me that I didn't actually say that to you."

Draco didn't respond and Hermione slowly moved a piece of her hair away from one eye. "Draco?"

He lifted his brows as he tapped ashes into the tray. "Did you want me to lie?"

She let out a long, rolling groan, met by the kettle's whistle. Grateful for the distraction, she bolted out of her chair and scurried to it, pushing it away from the heat. "Tell me the rest," she said, flapping one hand at Draco without looking at him. "Tell me all of it."

She heard him give a long exhale and peeked over her shoulder to see him lounging back in his chair, tea in one hand and cigarette in the other. The sunlight outlined the muscles in his arms and made the pale hairs on them look like a dusting of gold across his skin. Even the faded serpentine scar in his left forearm couldn't detract from the sight. She forced her mind back to the kettle, silently damning herself for her attraction to lean-muscled arms and long fingers. Clearly it had been _that_ part of her brain in operation the night before.

"You made your rather blatant offer, your friends all gasped so hard I'm surprised they didn't suck the ugly off old Tom, then you grabbed my head and kissed me. I'm not certain what you were drinking for most of the night, but I _can_ tell you that the last one you drank had Cointreau in it. Judging from the taste of your tongue, at least."

Hermione rubbed her temples and added Parvati to her list of victims, right after Dean. "Between the Sheets. Or it could have been a Frilly Knickers on the Floor. Parvati likes embarrassing names." She grabbed the sponge from the holder at the back of the counter and scrubbed it around the bottom of the sink to make it less obvious she was avoiding his eyes. "Keep going, tell me the rest. Get this over with."

His chair squeaked and she heard the flick of his lighter. "All right. Your next move was to make a second attack on my trousers, then you hauled me away from the wall, latched onto me, and Apparated straight to here. Surprisingly, neither of us were Splinched in the process. We'd barely landed when you stripped off your blouse and bra - very nice nipples, by the way - then you pulled me into the bedroom and demanded I get naked."

Hermione dropped the sponge into the sink and clung to the edge of it with both hands. "Why on earth did I do that?" she asked herself before snorting and shaking her head. "Drinks. Loads of them. But why--" She whipped around and pointed a shaking finger at Draco. "Why did you go along with it?"

He watched her for a moment, then shrugged again. "You weren't the only one out drinking. I said I'd been on a failed date. The latest in a long row of them. So I was there, you were there. Attractive woman made an offer, I haven't been laid in over a year. Seemed like fate and frankly I'd shag Bulstrode at this point if she didn't hate my guts. Plus you're a hell of a kisser, even when you're plastered. I was curious to see what else you're good at."

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the counter. "But you said we didn't have sex. You're telling the truth?"

"I am." Draco crushed his cigarette out and exhaled the last of his smoke. He pushed his chair back and brought his mug to the counter. "We didn't," he said in a low voice. "We did pretty much everything leading up to, but we didn't have sex. That's the truth."

He stood in front of her, his face set in serious lines. Hermione looked up into his eyes. "If we were-- If everything else you said-- If. But. Why didn't we?"

His cheeks and the bridge of his nose turned a light pink as he glanced away. "I ... couldn't."

Hermione's brows shot up. "You mean you, er." She held a finger up and let it droop.

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, not that. Well, not entirely. A little bit. More than. I had plenty to drink myself. But that's not my point. No, that wasn't the primary reason." He met her eyes, hesitating, then he brushed a piece of her hair back and tucked it behind her ear. "You were drunk, Hermione. _Extremely_ drunk. I'd say you were at least two hours past the point where you could have made a rational decision. I don't fuck women who can't choose to say no. I couldn't do it."

Hermione looked up at him, honestly astonished that he'd held back from a drunken hook-up. She didn't think many men would have restrained in that situation. Draco must have seen something in her expression, because he stepped back with both hands held in the air. "Don't look at me like that. I can attest before the Wizengamot that you have a tattoo on your arse and you have personally felt that I'm circumcised. We spent quite a bit of time rolling around on your bed and there were plenty of hands going plenty of places. Mouths too. I'm no saint. I just wasn't interested in getting the shit kicked out of me by your friends for taking advantage of you, all right?"

She blushed at his frank explanation but appreciated his candor. Less worrying about what she might have done gave her time to think about what to do next. Draco still had his hands up with a worried expression tightening his eyes. "Oh, relax," she said. She laughed and pushed away from the counter. "It's fine. That's just the sort of reason I'd expect from a Slytherin. Where did you sleep? And why did you stay?"

"Wasn't going to Apparate in my condition and I hate the Floo. Dusty. I slept on the sofa. Terribly uncomfortable, might I add." Draco moved to the table, cleaning up their mess, stacking the sections of the paper and brushing loose ashes into the tray. "As for _why_ I stayed? I'm not entirely sure. Something about wanting to make certain you had an explanation right away. Not leave you hanging and worried, I don't know. What's it matter?"

"Curious, mostly. It doesn't really matter." Hermione moved beside him and touched his arm to stop him from straightening the paper for the third time. It had been oddly sweet of him to stay to give her an explanation for the night, and it was a little cute that he seemed so embarrassed over it. "Thank you, in any case. I appreciate that at least one of us had some self-control." She went up on her toes to kiss his cheek in the same instant he turned his head to look at her. She kissed his mouth instead and they both sucked in a breath. Hermione caught Draco's shoulder to keep her balance. Her skin tingled. The feel of his lips against hers had been almost familiar, definitely interesting.

She didn't believe that alcohol talked anyone into doing anything they didn't want to do. It just took away the strictures that stopped them. There had been a half-dozen men in the group the night before, and she could have taken any of them home. She hadn't. She'd picked him. He was rather attractive and she had to admit she was curious. More than curious.

She curled one hand around the back of his neck and tugged him down to kiss him again. Draco made a quiet, confused sound, but he didn't protest. He didn't pull away. He brushed his mouth over hers. Hermione opened for him, sliding her tongue across his lower lip. 

His hands wrapped around her waist. He tugged her close, pulling her full against him as he parted his lips and let her in. 

Hermione pressed closer, her fingers dipping into his trousers to explore the warm skin beneath. Draco hissed and bit her lip as he pushed her camisole up and palmed one of her breasts. She could feel his cock stiffening against her stomach and she pulled back from the kiss to look at his eyes. "I'm sober now," she murmured.

Draco cupped her cheek. "So am I." He kissed the corner of her mouth and brushed his thumb across her nipple, swallowing hard when she pushed her breast into his hand. 

"I can make a rational decision." Hermione wriggled one hand between them and beneath his shirt. Her fingers tickled down the line of hair under his navel to push into his trousers. She pressed her palm over the length of his cock. Awkward with the angle of her wrist, she squeezed gently. "And I choose to say yes."

Draco's answering growl burned through her, weakening her knees. He dipped his head and sucked on the pulse in her throat. Hermione whimpered, her mind whirling. The bedroom was close, but if he kept that up, the table was closer.

Draco clutched at her waist and his teeth scraped across her skin. Hermione shuddered, keening at the quick flare of pain. She jerked her hand from his trousers to claw at his shirt. "Off," she demanded as she gripped the material and yanked on it. "Get this off."

The next few seconds were a frenzy. Hermione flung her camisole against the window, Draco's shoes hit the side of the refrigerator. Hermione pushed up onto the table and grabbed Draco's hips with her legs, her jeans dangling from one ankle. Draco hooked her knees and lifted her legs around his waist as he hauled her to the edge of the table. His cock rubbed against her, stiff and warm on her mound. He gripped his shaft and prodded between her labia, grumbling softly.

The tip of his cock pushed into her, too rough, and Hermione hissed in discomfort. "Wait," she said, pushing her hand against his chest where a set of reddened lines matched the span of her fingers. She nearly giggled at the dismayed look on Draco's face. She pulled his head down for a kiss and slipped her other hand between her thighs. "Not stopping you, idiot. I'm not wet enough just yet."

"Oh, sorry." Draco put his hands on the table by her hips and looked down to watch her fingers moving on her clit. He licked his lips as she pushed two fingers into her cunt to get her skin slick. "Want me to help?"

"Faster this way." Hermione nibbled along his jaw, scraping her mouth on his morning stubble. She took his earlobe between her teeth and pulled gently. A quick circle of her fingers made her gasp against his ear. "Don't want to waste time. Want to fuck you now."

She kissed him again, exploring his mouth as she worked her clit. Draco helped, cupping her breasts, pinching lightly at her nipples. When he bent to her neck and fluttered his tongue against her pulse, Hermione bucked. "There," she muttered. She fumbled for his cock and gave it a hard stroke. "Like that."

Draco swore under his breath and pumped into her hand. "Same to you." 

Hermione growled. Head resting against his shoulder, she watched her hands, watched herself wanking them both until small drops of pre-come were beading on his cock and she could feel her cunt pulsing around her fingers. "Now," she said, biting his neck. "Now, Draco."

He moved close and she leaned back on her elbows in the same motion. Draco hung his head as he pushed into her, both of them grunting when he filled her. Hermione dropped her head back, the ends of her hair brushing the stack of papers behind her. "And don't tease," she commanded, digging her heels into his arse. "Fuck."

He obeyed with a wild groan. Hands pressed to the table for leverage, he drove into her. Hermione twisted her arms and grabbed his wrists, holding herself in place. Draco growled and picked up speed and power, slamming into her. The table creaked alarmingly, but Hermione ignored it. She ignored everything except the feel of Draco's cock pumping inside her. She tensed her muscles, cunt grabbing at him, and Draco swore aloud. He snapped his head up, face red and forehead speckled with sweat. "Close," he said, panting for breath. "Y-you?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not like this. Can't." He started to slow and she tightened her legs around him. "Don't fucking dare. Don't stop. Next round for me. Don't. Fucking. _Stop_."

The sound he made was barely human. He jerked his arms out of her grip, grabbed her hips, and lifted her arse off the table. His next thrust slammed deep into her, the head of his cock sliding over a spot that made her let out a shriek. Hermione dropped to her back and arched into him, rolling her nipples in her fingers. She tugged at them in rhythm to Draco's thrusts, begging-pleading-ordering him to take her as hard as he could, fast as he could. 

He wrapped one arm under her back and fell over her, head nestled between her breasts as his steady pumping faltered and stuttered. "Can't," he muttered, his breath hot against her sticky skin. "Can't. Have to. He-Her. Hermione."

She clung to him as he stiffened against her, swearing with ragged gasps. He shuddered and gave a final rattling groan and she let her legs fall from around him. He gripped her arm as she shifted. "Don't move," he muttered. "Not yet. Let me, god. Let me rest a minute."

She smoothed his damp fringe back and patted his shoulder. "Right," she said, staring at the ceiling. "But you're going to have to clean the table, you know."

"Your idea." He sighed against her breast and slowly raised his head. "I was thinking the floor."

Hermione laughed under her breath. "Might try that at some point. Right now, shower, tea, and bed sound good to me. In that order."

Draco balanced on his elbows and looked at her. "Did you want me to go so you can do that alone?"

Hermione smiled at the half-shy expression in his eyes. She traced the shell of his ear and shook her head. "Actually. Was planning to have you join me for all three. We're going to have to talk, but, er. Later. Much later. Maybe over dinner?"

Draco raised his brows, blinking. His lips curled in a wicked smile. "Sounds like a deal."


End file.
